Jill Sorenson - Set The Dark On Fire

Shay felt so many conflicting emotions she couldn’t sort through them all. She was proud of her brother for standing up for her but disappointed in him for acting so rashly. As usual, she couldn’t prevent him from causing trouble.

“I have to go talk to Garrett,” Luke said after a moment. “Will you be all right for an hour or so until I get back?”

“Of course,” she murmured. “Be careful.”

“I will,” he promised, rising from his chair and giving her a quick peck on the cheek before he went out the door.

The way he’d said good-bye was so offhand, and felt so natural, that the implications of his actions didn’t sink in right away. If Dylan hadn’t been staring at her like she’d grown three heads, she might not have realized that she and Luke had just acted like a couple.

She lifted a hand to her cheek, feeling it grow warm. “What?”

“You’re in love with the sheriff,” he said, awestruck.

“Not even,” she lied.

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “Well, he’s in love with you.”

That was a far more outrageous notion, and one she didn’t have the heart to protest. The idea was too painful, and it made the empty place inside her ache to be filled.

Betty appeared beside her with a carafe, ready to fill something else. “Coffee?”

“No thanks,” Shay said, covering the rim of her mug. The small red mark on the edge of her thumb was clearly visible under the fluorescent lights.

“What happened there?”

“Nothing.” She drew her hand back self-consciously. To take the attention away from herself, she nodded at Betty, who had her forearm wrapped in gauze. Shay had noticed the bandage a few days ago. “How about you?”

“Just a cat scratch,” she replied, winking at Dylan. “What’ll you have?”

Her brother asked for a burger with the works and a chocolate shake. Shay’s appetite was off, for once in her life, so she requested a small order of fries.

“Coming right up,” Betty said, whisking away their menus.

Shay picked at her napkin, considering what to say next. They hadn’t talked about their parents in longer than she could remember. He always changed the subject. “I know you miss Mom and Dad,” she began. “I miss them, too. That hunting knife-”

“You don’t know anything,” he said, his face darkening with anger.

She threw up her hands in frustration. “Then talk to me! How am I supposed to understand if you won’t let me in?”

He looked down at the table, avoiding her eyes.

“I don’t know what to do with you,” she said, feeling as inadequate as ever. “I can’t stop you from getting angry, and I can’t keep you from being self-destructive. I’ve tried to do right by you, but I don’t know where else to turn. I don’t know anything about being a proper guardian.” She leaned toward him, her voice strained. “I’m not your mother, damn it!”

His head jerked up. “You’re not my mother,” he repeated, studying her face. “Who took care of me when I was little?”

Shay stared back at him in silence, feeling her throat tighten.

“Who walked me to the bus stop? Who cooked me dinner? Who tucked me in at night?”

Tears welled in her eyes. She hadn’t known he remembered.

“I didn’t give a damn when Dad left, because I never counted on him,” he continued. “He was useless most of the time. I knew better than to expect him to stay. And as for Mom… I never knew her at all.”

“Oh, Dylan,” she whispered, blinking the tears from her eyes.

“The person I counted on was you. As far as I was concerned, you were my mother. I was never mad at them for leaving. They weren’t worth it. I was mad at you.”

Her heart felt like it was being wrenched from her chest. She pressed a fist to the front of her T-shirt, trying to alleviate the pressure. “You know I had to go to college.”

“You left in spirit way before that. Running wild with your loser boyfriend. Sure, you came back to Tenaja Falls, and now you support us financially. But you haven’t really been home since Mom killed herself.”

The instant the words left his mouth, she knew he was right. She’d been so concerned with maintaining the status quo and ensuring his continued success in school, she’d completely forgotten how to relate to him as a human being.

She hadn’t been a mother or a sister; she’d been an emotional wasteland.

“I’m sorry,” she said, stunned by the realization. “I don’t know what to say. Except that you’re right. I’m such a screwup.”

His expression softened. “No, you’re not. Mom and Dad were screwups.”

“They loved you.”

He shrugged, not bothering to contradict her.

Tears filled her eyes again. “I love you.”

“I know,” he said, smiling a little. He might have said more, but Betty brought their plates, interrupting the sentimental moment. When forced to decide between making sappy remarks and chowing down on a loaded burger, Dylan made the predictable choice and dug in with his trademark gusto.

Nevertheless, she was pleased with the direction of the conversation. She hadn’t felt this close to her brother in ages. A warm contentment came over her, tempered only slightly by her confusion about her feelings for Luke and a bone-deep weariness.

“I’ll try to do better,” she said, nibbling on a french fry. “Be home more.”

“You do okay,” he allowed, taking another huge bite.

Her lips curved as she studied him from across the table. For the first time, her brother looked more like a man than a boy to her, and the sight unsettled her. With his dark blond hair and intense blue eyes, he was the spitting image of their father. And even with blood on his face and a torn T-shirt, he was handsome.

She should be thankful he’d never had any luck with girls.

On the heels of that thought, Angel’s father, Fernando Martinez, parked his truck outside the café. Dylan went very still, as if expecting some kind of confrontation, but Fernando merely waved hello as he came through the front door. While he waited for Betty at the register, he took a handkerchief out of his back pocket and wiped his lined forehead. As usual, he looked tired.

Betty reappeared from the kitchen, greeting Fernando with a nervous smile. She handed him some bills from the register.

Their exchange was none of her business, so Shay turned back to Dylan, shoving a few more french fries in her mouth.

“I have to talk to Fernando,” Dylan said in a low voice.

“Why?”

A flush crept up his neck. “I was with Angel earlier, and she… she left town. She ran away to Vegas. I watched her get on the bus.”

“Why would she go there?”

His mouth turned grim. “I think she’s planning on doing something stupid. Like getting a job at a strip club.”

Uh-oh . With her face and body, Angel wouldn’t have any trouble finding work in Vegas. “When did the bus leave?”

He glanced at the clock. “Over an hour ago.”

Shay didn’t need to hear any more. “Go tell him now,” she said, urging him to his feet. “Maybe he can catch up with her.”

As soon as Luke got in his truck, his radio crackled with distortion. “Domestic disturbance. Reported by a female resident at 420 Larkspur Lane.”

A chill raced down Luke’s spine. That was Garrett’s address.

“Please be advised that the suspect is an off-duty police officer. He should be considered armed and dangerous.”

Luke responded to the call, driving as fast as he dared down Tenaja Falls’s main drag. He knew from experience that this type of situation had to be handled carefully. Violent acts against women were usually perpetrated by a husband or boyfriend, and a man at home could be extremely defensive.